Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills Book 3) (7 page)

“She’s out,” April told her, patting her back. Her mother had broad shoulders, strong from gardening, dog care, piano, weight lifting (that had been the idea of Mark’s fiancée, Rose), and mothering.

Trixie Johnson waved her arms a lot when she mothered.

Now she was resting her hands on the keys, gazing off into space. “What a magnificent child.”

“Thanks,” April said. “I learned everything I know from you.”

She tilted her head back and beamed at her. “You’re joking, but it’s true. You’re wonderful.”

“Right back at you, lady.”

“I haven’t asked you about your work at Fite—”

“Which I appreciate,” April said.

Her mother made a face. “But I’ve been very curious.”

April sat on the bench next to her, bumping her hip against hers. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hm.”

“You seem to know everything, even if nobody tells you anything,” April said.

“I merely observe,” her mother said. “Like Sherlock Holmes.”

April smiled, imagining her tie-dye-wearing Berkeley mom in a plaid Victorian hat with earflaps. It was surprisingly easy to conjure the image. “You tell me, Holmes. How’s it going for me at Fite?”

“You’re doing very well with the artwork, of course…” her mother began.

April waited. “Yes?”

“But you’re having social trouble of some kind.” Trixie tapped her ribs with her elbow. “I’m good, aren’t I?”

“That was an easy one,” April said. “Interesting troubles are always social.”

Her mother smiled. “I admit that.”

“Seriously, though, I’m fine.”

“What’s his name?”

April groaned. “Why would you think there’s a guy involved?” She shook her head. “Fite used to have one straight, single guy, and that was Liam. Now that he’s married Bev, the company is all women, gay men, and married old-timers.”

“Sure,” Trixie said. “That makes sense. It’s the fashion business.”

“And I told you—I’m done with men for a long time. The binge is over. Cold turkey.”

“Of course you are.” Her mother began playing Bach’s Minuet in G Major.

April listened for a minute. “I know what you’re doing. Mark and Liam are hitched, so now you’re going after me.”

Frowning, Trixie stopped the minuet and struck a loud minor chord. “Mark isn’t hitched
yet
. I don’t know why people spend so long planning a wedding. It’s been almost a year since they were engaged. It’s not like it used to be—you can walk down to city hall and get married in a day or two, can’t you? You don’t even have to go to Nevada anymore—which, by the way, is right up the road. A few hours and it could be
settled
.”

Mark and Rose had pushed their wedding to the following spring, after initially planning to get married the previous summer, around when Bev and Liam, with Merry on the way, had gotten married in a small family ceremony at the house. Mark said they didn’t want to compete with Liam and Bev for any of the wedding glory, but April knew they’d seen how much work it was, not just for them but also for the guests who had to travel across the country, and they’d dragged their feet a little bit about their own big day.
 

“They wanted that particular winery for their wedding,” April said.

“Why? Why does everyone make such a fuss about one little party? It’s the marriage that’s important. If people put half the time into planning that, nobody would ever get divorced.”

“Never?” April asked.

Trixie played another gloomy chord. “Be quiet. What’s his name? The man you aren’t going to tell me about unless I make you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Another chord, louder than the others.

“Shh, you’ll wake the baby,” April said.

“Merry does whatever she wants to do with no input from any of us, just like you,” Trixie said. Then she smiled. “It’s wonderful. I’m so happy to see you two grow up together.”

“Thanks. You just called me an infant. As if I don’t get that enough from the general population.”

Trixie laughed. “You’re a late bloomer. Smart of you, given the two flashy acts you had to follow. I don’t know how I could’ve handled having Liam or Mark as
my
brothers—winning gold medals, being in the news, making millions of dollars, and all so
young
…”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in,” April said.

“I’m just grateful you didn’t move to Pennsylvania or Berlin.”

“What’s in Pennsylvania and Berlin?”

“Not you, thank goodness,” her mother said. She resumed playing Bach in the high notes.

April listened for a full minute before saying, “There
is
a guy, but it’s not what you think.”

“Mm.” Trixie kept playing.

“His name is Zack. He’s a business consultant. He’s at Fite for six months, is totally not my type, and is going to move back to New York, where he lives, as soon as he’s done firing everyone at the company, which probably includes me.”

“Zack,” Trixie said. “Does he like dogs?”

“Sure, Mom. Rescued greyhounds are his favorite, but he’ll tolerate a terrier mix if it’s not much of a barker.” April began playing harmony in the lowest register.

“Ask him to dinner,” Trixie said. “I bet he hasn’t had a good home-cooked meal in ages.”

“We’re not on those terms.”

“For crying out loud.” Her mother slapped her hands on the top of the piano. “Your father and I met, married, and had a baby within a year. He still died before you reached high school. How long do you think life is? It’s short, April. Short. You have to seize it. You have to take it and grab it now.
Now
.”

April stared at her. Her mother never talked like that. “Uh…”

“You know I’m right,” Trixie said. “That’s why you broke into Fite all those mornings without permission. Because you know you can’t wait forever. Sometimes you can’t wait for life to get out of your way. You have to barge right into it.”

Goose bumps rose on April’s arms. Not because Trixie knew about Fite, but because of the serious, urgent edge to her voice. “Is everything okay, Mom?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you okay?”

“If I told you I’d be dead next week, would you invite him to dinner?”

The goose bumps spread to the rest of her body. “Yes,” April whispered.

Trixie sighed. “How about a knee injury?”

“You hurt your knee?”

“I could.” She moved her hands from the keys to her thighs. “I’m not getting any younger.”

“But you’re not sick. Right?” April studied her mother, unhappy to notice she didn’t look quite as baby faced and vibrant as the image April nurtured in her mind. Lines from unprotected sun exposure—which Trixie insisted was worth the vitamin D—creased her eyes, cheeks, mouth, and neck. Her hair had been white for a long time, but it looked a little dull and flat. “Right?”

“I’m not pooping as easily as I’d like,” Trixie said. “And I almost wet myself laughing at a TV show last night. Does that ease your mind?”

“It depends,” April said, swamped with relief. “So to speak. What was the show?”

Trixie laughed. “That’s my girl. You’re my lighthearted one, always were. Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

“Except for the peeing-in-your-pants thing.”

“My grandbaby and I have so much in common,” Trixie said, starting to play again. “Next Thursday is perfect. Do you know if Zack’s a vegetarian?”

The craziness of the idea was so
her
. “Great idea, Mom,” April said. “I’ll invite the business consultant I barely know home to meet my mother—on
Thanksgiving
.”

“Not just your mother,” Trixie said. “Liam and Bev’s mother, too. His clients. It’s not such a strange request, see? You could pretend it’s for business.”

Luckily, Zack had told everyone he’d be gone the entire week for the holiday. He didn’t specify where he was going, but she and Rita and Virginia had decided it was New York, his permanent base.

Gossiping about the dark-haired, serious young consultant had become a widespread hobby at Fite Fitness, and although April tried to abstain, she found herself as curious and full of theories as everyone else.

“He’s out of town until after Thanksgiving,” she told her mother.

“Visiting family?”

“How would I know?” April turned the pages of the sheet music on the stand in front of them—beginner’s music, for a child. Just in time for the two-month-old infant in the other room, who no doubt would be playing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” any day now.

“Didn’t you ask?” Trixie swatted her hands away from the sheet music. “Never mind, you’re right—a regular day will be more relaxing, less intimidating. You can invite him for a plate of my famous lasagna.”

“Mom, seriously. I barely know him. And inviting him home to meet my mom—”

“Forget about me. I’ll go out. There’s a space movie I want to see. Those are always better in theaters, and I can avoid the crowds around the holiday weekend.”

April looked at the couch next to the piano. It was the same one she’d slept on in Liam’s condo in San Francisco during another one of her homeless periods. “How about you and I go to the movies together?” April asked. “Just you and me.”

It had been ages since they did anything like that. April tried to remember the last time she’d been out with just her mom—away from the house, away from her brothers.

“You’d do that?” Trixie asked.

“Of course I’d do that. I want to do that.”

“Just us?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I… I don’t know. Movies are such a date thing with you. Seems like a waste to go with your mom when you have boyfriends falling all over you.”

That was her polite mother’s way of saying she slept around. “They were all losers, that’s why they kept falling.”

“But this Zack guy sounds impressive—”

“Forget that guy. You and I will make a real date of it. We’ll go to the salon beforehand. And dinner. Indian, and not just the lunch buffet. From the
menu
.”

Interest glowed in her mother’s eyes. “Do you think Liam and Bev could do without us that long?” She glanced over at the door to the bedroom. “We could try to bring Merry with us. We can practice using that baby carrier.”

“No baby. Just us. We couldn’t really do it right with her along.”

“What about the dogs?”

“Stool has settled in,” April said. “He gets along with the others pretty well.” She glanced at the trio still snoozing in a puppy pile on the sofa.

“Wouldn’t you rather do that with one of your girlfriends? You’re surrounded by family day and night.” Trixie glanced at April out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve heard some people don’t like that.”

“Let’s do it. You and me,” April said, thrilled finally to have diverted her from her fixation with Zack. “Saturday. I’ll get us in at that salon on College.”

Trixie beamed, touching her hair with the tips of her fingers. “I haven’t had a proper cut in ages.”

“Perfect. Me either.”

“I’m so excited.” Trixie laughed and stood up. “We’ll both be gorgeous.”

“Totally gorgeous.”

Cupping April’s cheek with her hand, her mother added, “And when Zack comes back and sees you, he’ll know you’re interested in dating.”

* * *

The Monday after his long Thanksgiving holiday, Zack walked into the Fite building and felt the muscles between his shoulder blades loosen for the first time in eight days.

Why had he gone back? Meg’s parents loved him—they often told him so—but at this point he’d spent more holidays with them than he ever had with his late wife. The painful absurdity of that weighed on him more every year.

I have to move on
. He’d told them not to expect him at Christmas, which hadn’t gone over well, especially with Meg’s older sister, Sarah. Working in California for several more months was a good excuse, and he’d stuck to it—but what about next year?

He wished he’d never told them his own family didn’t observe holidays—any holiday, even birthdays. As children, both of his parents had belonged to a church that didn’t approve of holidays, and although they didn’t belong to that particular sect anymore, the habits were there. Even before she died, Meg’s parents saw it as their duty to make up for the first twenty years of his life. Just a couple of years earlier, they’d hired caterers and a band for his thirtieth birthday party.

Sometimes he felt like they loved him more than Meg ever had. It wasn’t something he’d ever said out loud, to anyone, and he never would. It might sound like he blamed her, when all she’d done was hold on as tightly as she could, afraid of facing the darkness alone. If he’d been the one who’d found out he had cancer just as his first college loan payments were coming due, he might’ve felt his love for his girlfriend deepening, felt a need to hurry and do as much as he could as long as he could, right now, while he still could.

He didn’t regret marrying her. He’d known he wanted to marry her on the fourth date. He’d proposed two months later.

But she’d said no. It was only when she’d gotten the diagnosis that she suddenly seemed eager to make it forever…

It’s not only me who has to move on. But how can I do that to them? Take away another one of their children?

He greeted Virginia at the front desk as he strode past to his office. Just a quick stop to file a few things in the cabinet before returning to his cubicle in the art room next to April.

He would move out of the art room today. He’d decided that several times on the plane. Rita had shown him plenty, proving to him that the art room was more than pulling its weight, even with the expensive software and other equipment. They managed pretty well, actually, with less staff than they needed. Rita had told him about the freelancers she’d had to send home within the last year, assuring him that although April was new and untrained, she could draw and she showed up on time. None of the other freelancers had managed to reach that zenith of achievement.

The art room was empty when he walked in. Rita would come later, but he’d hoped to see April. Well, of course he’d hoped to see April.

It was good she wasn’t there.

He looked at his watch. Why was she late? It was already 8:12 a.m. He’d noticed in the five days they worked together, she always walked into the office at 8:03 a.m., because of her train from Oakland, she’d said.